I used my iPhone X to take these photos. They came out pretty nice. What do you think?
I used my iPhone X to take these photos. They came out pretty nice. What do you think?
10. Red is my favorite color.
9. The Cincinnati Reds is my favorite baseball team.
8. I’m lactose intolerent but I love ice cream.
7. I’m afraid of water (yes, the Sailor is afraid of water. I can swim but water is destructive and scary at times).
6. New Edition is my favorite music group.
7. I love love love listening to Frank Sinatra (Frank is apart of my morning ritual).
6. I met my husband over a bottle of Jagermeister (true story, I promise).
5. Tampa Bay Buccaneers is my favorite football team.
4. I was born in Cincinnati, Ohio (hell no…not a Bengals fan.)
3. I have a bad habit of speaking in football terms.
2. I absolutely love sports
1. I love sugar (cakes, pies, cookies, soda, candy)
It’s your turn! Tell me about yourself.
Have you ever seen Big Bird’s nest on Sesame Street? It’s probably been a while especially when it’s not shown very often. Big Bird of course has this massive sized nest, as he should since he is of course, Big Bird. I find myself comparing my nest to Big Bird’s. I mean, for a while my nest was pretty big. All four of my baby birds and Papa bird fit into the nest quite nicely. We had room to grow and grow is exactly what they did. GROW! And they grew some more and now they don’t fit into the nest like they used too.
Now, I spend a lot of my time perched up in my nest, spending a lot of time alone with my thoughts. It’s funny, as they get older, so do I. I have to face my own mortality, the baby birds having birds of their own, finding jobs and flying away. For a while I felt sad but then quickly felt refreshed because I remembered what Papa Bird said about that empty nest.
An empty nest means freedom. Free to fly to Vegas. Free to fly here or there. Fly anywhere! Sex here. Sex there. Booze in the morning if I want. Booze at night if I like.
Just freedom! The empty nest isn’t looking so bad anymore.
As a parent of a college student where’s the line of being a parent or butting out?
The hardest part of being a parent of a college student is that you always worry. You worry that they may drink too much, drugs, unprotected sex, if they are safe transiting around campus, date rape, serial killers, etc.
Recently, my neighbors 27 year old son had a drug over dose and stopped breathing in their living room. There were plenty of police, fire trucks, an ambulance, and plenty of spectators popping outside to see what all the ruckus was.
Now me being the ever so nosey neighbor of course, it was just the right time for a smoke break. After the events of the day, I had a moment to really think about what happened and how as a parent I would deal with the the situation should it ever happen to my family. I do have three other kids to raise, get through college, and then out of the nest completely.
Me and a co-worker actually got into a heated debate over drugs, my philosophy, and a few key issues affecting our young adult kids.
My oldest daughter and I have a pretty good relationship and I feel like we can talk about pretty much everything. I say pretty much but I think that she maybe hesitant to discuss my sex life. She has gotten a little uneasy when I’ve told her stories about things I may or may have not done. We discuss topics frankly because my mom was not an approachable women when it came to certain topics. Sex was one of them. We basically got the one threat, “If you get pregnant you better find your own place, cause I ain’t raising no babies.” That was our sex talk.
MMF and I talk about everything. I want her to know that she doesn’t have to be alone in her decision making process unless she really wants too. Sex, money, school, boyfriends, pregnancy, suicide, giving her friends advice or answering their medical questions about female stuff. I’m all the way game for helping. Where I’m not open for or even discussion is drug usage.
If she wanted to be a man…cool…
If she’s a lesbian…cool…
If she goes both ways…cool…
If she had a baby…cool…
If she’s confused…cool…
If she got drunk and danced topless on a table…cool…
Those are just examples of what some parents face today…
I/we can get over all of that. We can keep moving with out missing a beat. Drugs are a different animal. You roll the dice in an unpredictable way. Simple marijuana could be laced with all kinds of bad stuff. Then there you are…addicted and doing whatever it takes to get that next high. I’ve seen first hand what drugs can do to a person and families. I only give the lecture at least once a week about her not doing drugs and that she doesnt need to experiment in this lane at all. Just stay away from it. She did tell me that she tried marijuana once and I think I took it well. I think that her respect for me was apparent because we had a honest conversation about it. The good thing is that her heart didn’t really agree with marijuana so she didn’t get that good feeling that everyone else did. She almost got herself a one way ticket to the emergency room. Lucky for her she survived and it was a bad enough experience that she won’t do it again.
Getting back to my co-worker, she said that I didn’t have the right to tell my daughter not to do drugs. That she was a grown woman and that if she wanted to drugs that who was I, her mother to stop her. I think my face turned red as a stop sign. I went into labor with my child a full 25 or so hours before she was born. She’s mine. Her dad’s too but she’s mine. I gave birth to her. If she was 45, I would still tell her not to be doing drugs and that she should stay away from them.
The look on the mother who’s son who had just over dosed and died in her living room was just too much. Luckily for her, he was able to be revived and they can try again for recovery but there are so many parents that aren’t as lucky.
So I ask you, my loyal readers, is there ever a time that a parent stops being a parent? Does it end at 18? Am I wrong for imposing on my 20 year old daughter because I want her to be safe?
Please give me your thoughts.
So there’s big fish…little fish
There’s the three girls
Then the one young man
There’s the feisty puppy
Then there’s my favorite favorite child…
Dixie Doodles is my favorite child out of all my children. She’s the most resilient old lady in the world to me. On a random day in my boring existence I walked into a Petsmart to get some replacement fish and there she was. I tried to walk past and she jumped up and licked me as I walked by. It was love at first sight.
Dixie has a very interesting story and it began before she and I ever met. She’s a boxer pit mix who is believed to have been a victim of doggy rape and used to breed pit bulls. Someone grew tired of her and tried to put her in a plastic bag and drown her. Someone found her with a collar embedded in her neck and a plastic bag over her head. She was nursed back to health and I was the lucky person who adopted her.
She’s a survivor on so many levels. Dixie was heart worm positive when we got her. She had this awful cough and had to be taken to the vet within the first week of us getting her home. They had to do some pretty rough procedures but she survived. There was the almost run in with cancer, she had a large mass growing in her mouth, which resulted in her having to get most of the teeth in her mouth taken out.
I love this dog. She’s my best cuddler, my best protector, and my fierce feet warmer. When ever I’ve gone away and come back my baby girl shows me that she misses me.
I usually try to keep my big opinions to myself but I can’t today. I saw some ignorant person on Facebook beating a dog and it made the hairs on the back of neck stand up. Instead of liking or sharing these posts we need to start reporting these people.
Animal cruelty is wrong.
My animals are a big part of my family and I don’t or won’t let anyone mistreat them.
There’s a special place in hell for people who harm animals, children, and old people.
Animal Cruelty- http://www.aspca.org
Let’s put an end to animal cruelty!!!
Have you ever paid close attention to people in their cars when there’s a red light?
As a rule I’m normally in my own little world as I’m driving. I usually try very hard not to make eye contact with anyone. Lately, I’ve been making an exception to my rule. I have decided for blog purposes I will try to more aware of my surroundings.
Here are few of my observations:
There’s the White Knuckle Driver.
It’s usually a woman in the mini van with a car load of kids. She’s usually the slow moving vehicle that’s in the fast lane. She’s extra cautious and annoying as hell to the drivers around her. She takes the extra 10 seconds to make sure that traffic is completely stopped before proceeding. I’m the asshole behind her honking my horn.
Nose Picker Guy.
Every three or four cars there’s a man without a care in the world sitting in the drivers seat with his finger jammed up his nose. Incidentally, he sees you looking at him with disgust and he keeps on digging. I sure hope he finds what he’s looking for.
Rocking Out Guy.
This guy’s radio is so loud that you can hear it over your own radio. He’s super engrossed in the music and dancing that his car is bouncing all over the place. Then the light changes and he snaps out of his trance and smashes the gas petal. This used to be my husband until he turned into the next guy.
Fake NASCAR Driver.
This person (man or woman) looks at every green light as the start of their very own NASCAR race. This person is anxiously awaiting the light changing. They are so focused they’ve studied the traffic light patterns so that they can hit the gas as soon as it changes, they go from 0 to 60 in two seconds. They are the first person at the next stop light and then the cycle starts all over again.
Now I’m guilty, all things considered, I am the fake NASCAR driver whether I’m driving my mustang or the baby bus. I have the lead foot and I must be the leader of the pack. I’ve calmed down my road rage to a mere simmer. People are crazy and I’m not willing to gamble. Sadly, my engine pays for the sins of others.
What kind of red light driver are you?
When was the last time someone told you that they were proud of you? Can’t remember? I just want you to know that I am proud of you. You’ve managed to get through three weeks of being out to sea and you held up pretty good. I know you had a few rough patches when you were ready to say fuck it and hang up your sea bag for good but you did an awesome job. The first week you were a bag of nerves and upset about everything but you picked your head up and kept pushing forward. You have been knocking out your qualifications and starting to remember of the different correspondence packages that have come into your office. I see that some things haven’t changed for you in regards to blocking thoughts of your family out of the way in order to keep a clear mind and honestly, I can’t tell you not to do it because I understand that’s your way of coping with things. I’m just glad that you haven’t blocked them out completely and as an improvement you truly have thought about them everyday and still managed to function. See that’s why I am so proud of you because you always know what to do when you’re faced with adversity you rise to the occasion. You may be thinking it was only a short while and there are plenty of time away yet to come but your taking it one step at a time and I admire that.
I have a bone to pick with you. What is going on with your prayer life? God has been too good to you for you to backslide now. Your potty mouth and negativity is becoming more of a habit again then an occasional slip of the tongue. I know and you know that God has taken care of you at some of the lowest points of your life and your not allowed to put Him in a closet like you’ve put everything and everyone else. You better get it together girl. I know that you are conflicted with how you feel and you may even feel like your being punished but you have to know that your steps were ordered even before you were born. Your situation is only temporary and it won’t last forever.
Keep smiling Prudence. I love you.
Open letters. Thoughts. Reflections. Conversations. Pictures. Stories.
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